


Lap of Luxury

by Rozozzy



Series: The Pleasantview Archives [5]
Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Gen, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Pedophilia, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Pleasantview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozozzy/pseuds/Rozozzy
Summary: “Trust me,” Dina says. “I don’t like men.” She smirks. “But I like money.”
Relationships: Dina Caliente/Don Lothario, Dina Caliente/Michael Bachelor, referenced dina/mortimer
Series: The Pleasantview Archives [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936129
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	Lap of Luxury

"You really are the most beautiful girl."

Dina's father tells her this when she's a starry-eyed child, blonde hair pinned back like her mother's with a silver butterfly clip, adorned in white lace and red satin, her mother and sister waiting in the car as she nearly finishes slipping on her shoes.

He always says things like this, maybe to her first and then to Nina, or maybe to Nina first and then to her, ping-ponging back and forth on which daughter is his _most beautiful_ daughter, his convictions entirely centered around his day-to-day whims.

Dina smiles at her father expectantly, as if this time he will say something more than what she has already been told time and time again, as if this time he will say that she is more than just the beauty she possesses, more than a smile she can offer to a weary world.

But he just leans down and kisses the top of her forehead and gives her that half-wrinkled smile that she and her sister always get from him. Never that warm, wide smile he always gives her mother.

"You will always be my most beautiful, baby girl."

And this time, like all other times, he says nothing more.

* * *

"Mom," Dina asks, a palette of eyeshadow in her hands, "can you help me look prettier?"

Her mother laughs, light and rich like a drop of honey. "Silly girl," she says, delicately taking the eyeshadow away from Dina's grasp. She wags a playful, accusational finger. "Don't take things without permission, okay? It isn't very ladylike."

Dina nods slowly, straightening out her back. She puffs out her cheeks and then sighs, gaze averting to the floor. "But I have to be pretty," she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're pretty enough as it is, sweetheart," her mother says in soft amusement. "And being pretty isn't the most important thing in the world."

Dina frowns. "Then what is?"

Her mother smiles at her. Whereas her father's smiles always seem distant and aloof and her sister's smiles snarky and borderline malicious, her mother's smiles have always been gentle and honest and kind.

"The love of a man."

* * *

When her mother dies, her father sings praises about her golden heart and her stunning mind and her unrelenting kindness. He sings praises about her that Dina has never heard him say about anyone. But what catches her eye, what _truly_ captures her attention, is that her mother's beauty is only a _fraction_ of the laundry list of high regards held by her father.

As if her beauty was a mere afterthought to every other quality she had possessed.

And after her mother dies, that part of her father—that sliver of him which held a certain kind of warmth only reserved for her mother—gets sewn shut, never to be reopened ever again.

But Dina isn't sure if there is any other warmth left in him.

* * *

Dina gets to her mother's makeup before Nina is given the opportunity to lay one precisely manicured finger on it. And if she's prettier than Nina, her father will love her more.

After all, what could be more important than that?

* * *

Michael Bachelor walks her home from school one day.

He's older—much older—but he _just wants to talk,_ he tells her. That's all. That's it. There's nothing more to it.

So they talk, and they crack jokes, and they laugh at those jokes. And then Dina goes home and waves him goodbye.

And then he walks her home again the next day.

Dina lets him, because he's just talking and they're just walking, and there's no harm in talking and walking and making new friends.

Now he walks her home every day.

It's a good thing, Dina decides. All her friends are _totally_ jealous that an older man has taken interest in her. It means she's _mature._ He's nice to her and he smiles _real_ smiles at her, the kind of smiles her mother used to smile at her when she was still alive. He doesn't just say things like "you're pretty" or "you have lovely hair." He tells her she's _kind_ and she's _smart_ and she's _not like other girls her age_.

The things her father only told her mother.

The things her father would never say to her.

Michael Bachelor gives Dina the warmth that her father refuses to give.

And when he kisses her, Dina thinks she finally understands what her mother had meant by her words all those years ago.

* * *

Dina knows that her father would never approve of their relationship, that he wouldn't _understand._

His death is more of a convenience than anything else.

(And in the back of her mind, maybe, perhaps, he simply wouldn't have cared).

* * *

For the wedding, Michael makes her squeeze into a short, satin dress that barely covers her ass and hugs her chest so tightly that she almost forgets to breathe.

* * *

"You look tired."

Michael says this to her one day after he comes home from work, door calmly clicking shut behind him as he tosses his coat onto the nearest chair, sliding next to Dina on the sofa. He cups her cheek with a gentle hand, tracing over her skin with a delicate finger, eyes narrowing when his thumb grazes just underneath her eye.

Michael cants his head at her, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You know," he says to her softly as he kisses the top of her forehead and flashes her a half-wrinkled smile, "a little makeup can go a long way."

* * *

When Don Lothario first hits on her, it's out by the bridge in Woodland Park, overlooking the pond as the sunset's shimmer reflects on the water. His shoulder immediately brushes against hers, and he makes some bullshit comment about how the golden rays shine against her face, something stupid along those lines.

Dina turns to him with an apathetic toss of her hair. "Wait," she says, eyes narrowing, "aren't you dating my sister?"

"Of course _not_ ," Don scoffs as he leans in more dangerously close than he already is. "You're clearly _hotter_."

Dina rolls her eyes at his blatant lie. But when Don makes his move, she reciprocates nonetheless. Partly because he's younger and better-looking than Michael, and partly because it feels good to use a man for his body in the same way that she has been used for hers.

She smiles against his lips when they break apart, watching as Don eyes her up and down with that predatory look in his eyes, the kind of eyes that disregard her status of a person and only view her as a mountain to be conquered, as a prize to be won.

"Take me out to dinner," Dina tells him. She then tugs on the collar of his shirt and pulls him into another kiss. "You're buying."

Don sighs, nodding feverishly. "Mhmm. Anything for you, baby."

Dina grins.

These men. They're all the same.

Her mother was wrong.

Their love means jackshit.

(But their money? At least that's worth _something_ ).

* * *

While Michael is away at work, Dina decides to sift through the mail, even though he always tells her she's not allowed to touch their bills, that only _he_ is in charge of their money. She is careful to open each envelope with delicate fingers, replacing each piece of mail back inside and closing it carefully enough to make it seem unopened.

When Dina opens the letter from the life insurance company, the stars in her eyes that have long since faded become replaced with something else.

Dollar signs.

* * *

For Michael's funeral, she dyes her wedding dress black.

One week later, she uses the inheritance she receives to buy a three-story condo in the heart of Pleasantview.

* * *

The first thing Dina does when she moves in is sunbathe on the roof in a black bikini, sunglasses covering her face as she skims her late husband's obituary and sips on a strawberry margarita.

* * *

When Nina moves in to live with her, Dina had thought she'd at least be _useful._

But all Nina brings with her is leftover, sentimental junk from their now-sold family home, her unbearably _tacky_ sense of fashion, and her foolish notions of romance that make Dina want to hurl. Dina may currently be in-between careers at the moment, but at least she's got _some_ money. Nina doesn't even have a _job._

Dina knows the two of them can't live off of _her_ inheritance forever. It's just not sustainable. So when she finds out that Mortimer Goth is the wealthiest man in Pleasantview, she knows what she has to do.

Dina smirks as her eyes trace over his picture: he's not really good-looking. He'd be easy to fool, easier enough to seduce. She could marry him and be well taken care of, leaving the condo and all of its debts to Nina when she ditches her mooching ass.

There's just one problem.

He's married.

* * *

At first, Dina thinks the sentimental junk Nina had brought with her was just useless crap weighing them down, occupying unnecessary space in _her_ condo. But she sits down and reads her Grandpa Nestor's old journal anyways, maybe because deep down she still wonders if there's anything left of her father etched into the fading pages.

She sits for hours, reading and reading until something unusual catches her eye, and she has to stop for a moment, rereading the lines to make sure her eyes are working correctly.

Dina blinks.

"Huh. I didn't know we're part alien."

She grins.

That gives her an idea.

* * *

"I need your help."

Dina doesn't ask for help often, and certainly not from _Nina_ of all people. But orchestrating a scheme this daring, this _delicate_ , is going to require all the correct gears to be in place once it's finally set in motion.

Her request, not surprisingly, is met with somewhat of a scowl and a long, irritating sigh.

"With _what?"_ Nina asks, not bothering to mask the annoyance that drips from her tone.

Dina pauses briefly, contemplating her next words carefully. "I need you to get me in contact with Don Lothario."

Now, she already has Don's number. But Nina doesn't know that. And Nina is a _crucial_ piece of the larger puzzle, one that is needed in order for Dina to succeed. So Dina needs to feign innocence. She needs to play her cards carefully.

Nina abruptly stiffens at the mention of her lover's name. "He's mine, bitch," she spits out quickly, recoiling slightly in her seat. "Back off."

Dina releases a curt laugh, amused at her sister's frivolous attachment. "Relax," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm _so_ not interested in him."

Nina scoffs. "Yeah, _right._ "

"Trust me," Dina says. "I don't like men." She smirks. "But I like money."

There's a labored pause between them, a heavy dose of tension wafting in the air.

" _Okay_ , then," Nina asks with a pointed glare, traces of lingering skepticism still evident in her voice. "What is it that you _want,_ then?"

Dina joins her sister on the kitchen island counter, hopping onto the barstool as she looks her dead in the eyes, a sharp glint of a smile hanging from her face. It's not the detached smile of her father or the heartwarming smile of her mother or the unnervingly predatory smile of her late husband—but the sly, venomous smile only the Caliente twin sisters care to shine.

"To get rid of Bella Goth."

* * *

As Dina scours the internet for anything and everything she can get on Bella Goth, Nina occasionally peers over her shoulder, pacing back and forth around the room in the most distracting and annoying manner possible.

"Could you cut that shit out?" Dina hisses through gritted teeth. "There's two other floors for you to stomp around." Actually, no, scratch that. She doesn't want to hear that shit in the house. "Or just go outside."

Nina exhales a deep breath, hands fidgeting as she takes a reluctant seat next to Dina. "But what if she's a good person?"

Suddenly, Dina's eyes widen.

Bella Goth's maiden name is Bella _Bachelor._

Dina snorts.

If she was Michael's sister, how good could she really be?

"Nah," Dina says with a click of her tongue. "She's probably a bitch."

* * *

On the eve of Dina's ultimate plan, she and her sister arrive just on time for Nina to catch Don's sleazy smile as he opens the door, with Bella perched on his couch and looking away in disinterest.

Dina feigns a first-time greeting and Don feigns his. The two of them are both smart enough to avoid getting into hot water with Nina at the moment, but Dina catches him checking her out in a passing glance when her sister isn't looking.

Dina watches as Nina and Don trot up the stairs where the hot tub will be waiting for them, and she waits for the door to shut before taking a seat next to Bella and flashing her a subtle, wicked smile.

And yet it's Bella who breaks the silence first.

"You were Michael's wife," she says quietly, a hardened expression coming over her soft face.

Dina doesn't like the way Bella looks at her. With sad eyes. With _pity._

"And you were his sister," Dina points out flatly. She then clears her throat, shifting in her seat. She can't let her emotions take over right now. Not with everything at stake.

Not when she's _this_ close.

"I should go," Bella says, standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. "I don't know why I even came here."

"You like stargazing?" Dina asks out of nowhere, voice almost cracking in desperation to keep her plan alive. There is never going to be another opportunity like this. Dina knows this for certain. It's now or never.

Bella smiles, but it's half-assed, almost _patronizing._ "My husband does."

Dina resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Has Don ever shown you his telescope?"

Bella releases a short laugh through her nose and rolls her eyes. "Unfortunately," she says, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. "He's very bad at flirting. His looks are his saving grace."

Dina can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. Only dumb bitches would fall for a douchebag like him."

Bella cants her head. "But your sister—"

"—Is a dumb bitch."

Bella chuckles softly and flashes a small smile, and this time it feels kind, _genuine,_ vaguely echoing the smiles that Dina's mother once used to have, so much that it almost makes Dina feel guilty for what she is about to do, for what Bella's fate is to become.

But then Dina remembers that her mother is dead, and that her mother was a dumb bitch too, clinging to a man unworthy of her boundless affection, clinging to a man, _period._

"Come to the deck with me," Dina beckons with an open palm, a charming smile cutting through the corners of her face. "The sky is clear. And it's a lovely night."

For a moment, Dina thinks that this isn't going to work, that Bella will turn down her offer and walk out that door, taking all of Dina's aspirations for the future with her. For a moment, Dina swallows, watching Bella's eyes flicker between her and the exit, watching the split second of hesitation that crosses her face. For a moment, Dina thinks, _this is it, it's over,_ and resigns herself to a life of eternal mediocrity as a second class citizen.

But then Bella gives her a gentle nod. "It really is a lovely night, isn't it?"

And as Dina leads Bella up the staircase to the stars that wait for them above, she almost pities her.

* * *

It takes six months for Mortimer Goth to mourn the loss of his wife.

It takes another six months for time to heal the gaping wound caused by Bella's absence, for Mortimer to finally start to move on.

Nina had once told Dina that she was delusional for waiting around for some old, wealthy recluse, that he would be more likely to die of a broken heart than to be receptive to the idea of dating again, that at his age, he wouldn't bother with it at all.

But Dina knows men.

And when she finally makes her move, one thing rings true time and time again.

They are all the same.

* * *

For the wedding, Mortimer lets Dina pick out whatever her heart desires.

She wears a long, chiffon dress that flutters in the wind and allows her to breathe.

* * *

"Do you really love Dad?"

Alexander Goth, the snot-nosed little shit, asks her this question as Dina lounges in front of the fireplace, the first snow of winter freshly fallen amidst the streets. Dina forces herself upright to narrow her eyes at the young boy who asks such an innocent question, yet who seems to reflect some underlying resentment beneath his starry eyes.

Then, Dina smiles at him. A sad smile. Almost wistful.

"I'm not sure if he even loves me," she admits through a quiet breath.

Alexander's eyes fall, face sunken. "Oh."

"But that's okay," Dina tells him, suppressing a grin. "Because I don't care."

* * *

When Mortimer dies, the first thing Dina does is look at the stars and sip on a strawberry margarita.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> i know michael bachelor probably drank the elixir of life and it fucked up his age which is likely how he got with dina as a teen and still died of old age before the game began BUT HOT TAKE: WHAT IF HE DIDN'T (don't @ me on this one point ok)


End file.
